


Comfort

by curiouscorvid (prometheanTactician)



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mad Max AU, Past Abuse, Post-Apocalypse, Praise, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 11:53:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12556832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prometheanTactician/pseuds/curiouscorvid
Summary: The wasteland stretched on for uninterrupted miles between settlements. Between tribes and the Three Citadels, there was nothing but vast expanses of sand as far as the eye could see. Anyone without a vehicle was doomed. The distance was too great and too perilous to walk, anyone who attempted to do so surely being killed by the elements or travellers with actual vehicles. That’s why Edward was so surprised with what he saw. He had to slow down to observe it properly, and he could tell it was observing him too, waiting to see if he would run it over or attack.Edward did neither of those things.





	Comfort

The wasteland stretched on for uninterrupted miles between settlements. Between tribes and the Three Citadels, there was nothing but vast expanses of sand as far as the eye could see. Anyone without a vehicle was doomed. The distance was too great and too perilous to walk, anyone who attempted to do so surely being killed by the elements or travellers with actual vehicles. That’s why Edward was so surprised with what he saw. He had to slow down to observe it properly, and he could tell it was observing him too, waiting to see if he would run it over or attack.

Edward did neither of those things.

He approached slowly, and as he did he could see that the figure was a person. A very tall, very gangly, and very dusty person. His hair was wild, tangled with dirt and sticking every which way wherever it wasn’t plastered to his head with sand. His clothes weren’t fairing much better. It was like he’d been buried, or walked through a sandstorm. The man stood very, very still, like a prey animal trying to remain unseen but prepared to bolt at the slightest movement. Despite his stillness, his eyes were wide and wild. Crazed. There may have been fear in them, but that was overshadowed by the sheer violent desire to destroy anything that needed to be feared in the first place.

The man was… muzzled. There was metal clamped around the bottom half of his face, holding his jaw shut and his teeth at bay. There was a long chain coming from it, with a tube running through that chain. The tube was red. Full of blood. Edward looked in the direction the man had come from, then back at the tubing as he came to a stop in front of the man.

“You were a bloodbag.” He whispered, mostly to himself. The man tensed. “For the Arkham Citadel.” The man jolted into action all at once, his whole body lurching as he ducked around Ed’s cobbled together vehicle. Edward cursed and drove around to cut him off, sand spraying under his wheels but thankfully not covering the man any more than he already was.

“Stop.” Edward commanded, but the man was looking around frantically for some way out of the situation. “I am not going to turn you in. I can help you.” He tried to speak calmly, but the urgency of the matter wasn’t lost on him. If this man really was from one of the Citadels, which all things point to that being the case, then there would be people coming after him. They had to go. 

“You won’t get far on foot. They’ll catch up to you or someone will catch you.” The man seemed to be considering his words, visibly conflicted. “My vehicle is far superior to anything their primitive minds have thrown together. I can get you far away from them. Not to mention I have supplies. Food, water, some basic medical equipment…” The man’s eyes glazed over with a deep-seated desperation at the mention of water. But he seemed to catch himself, his gaze hardening as he raised a hand and tapped his index finger against the side of his metal muzzle.

“I can get that off of you. Simple. Nothing they make can hold a candle to my mind.” He leaned over and threw the passenger door open, then straightened up and raised an eyebrow at the man. “So you can come with me and let me help, or you can keep up on your own and surely die, or worse.”

The man was still trying to catch his breath from how long he’d been running. He looked exhausted in every way a person can be, and after a brief staring contest he lowered his eyes as if in defeat, his shoulders slumping from their defensive posture. It was like he was giving up. Resigned to whatever horrible fate he believed Edward had in mind for him.

Well then, he’d be sorely disappointed. As soon as the man was in the car, Edward floored it in the opposite direction of the Arkham Citadel, towards the canyons. Most of it was occupied by a hostile wasteland tribe, but Edward knew of a more hidden area that had yet to be occupied. They could hide there while Edward freed the man of his muzzle. He explained this as he drove, when the man insistently tapped on his muzzle in a silent demand to take it off then and there. He didn’t exactly seem pleased with the delay, but slumped back against his seat in exhaustion. His eyes fell closed, and Edward honestly had no idea if he had just died or not.

They arrived at the canyon, where Edward carefully led his vehicle between two large rock foundations that created the perfect cover for a single car. They would be impossible to see unless someone tried to walk beneath the formation. Safely hidden, Edward put a hand on the man’s shoulder to wake him. This promptly resulted in him being thrown back and pinned against the drivers side door by hands around his neck. He tried to choke out some assurance that he hadn’t been attacking, but he couldn’t get the words out before the man released him and backed off, chest heaving and eyes wild as they had been in the wasteland. Edward rubbed the soreness around his neck and cleared his throat before speaking.

“Turn around. I need to see how it’s fastened.” The man obviously wasn’t expected Edward to keep his word, especially after having been attacked. He was clearly suspicious as he turned his back to Edward, but was so desperate to get the thing off of himself that he did it anyway. He wasn’t sure what he expected from Arkham, but this was certainly par for the course with them. A simple padlock. How primitive. How disappointing. Still, he took out his lockpicks and got to work. It was barely ten seconds before the padlock popped open and Edward unhooked it from the clasp of the mask, the whole thing falling into the man’s lap. The man turned back around, rubbing at his jaw and neck, eyes closed as the discomfort of the muzzle was removed from him. They flew open again when Edward nudged him with a container of water.

The man grabbed it, but Edward held fast. The savage glare he received in return warned of an attack as he explained. “You are extremely dehydrated. Only drink a little, or you’ll shock your system. You need to ease into it.” The glare didn’t let up as the man snatched the container from him, but did as he was told all the same.

“So, do you have a name?” He received no response as the man passed the water back to him. The man didn’t even look at him. “Wanna tell me how you managed to escape one of the Citadels?” He tried, still receiving no answer. “Are you injured? Are you unable to talk? Are you-”

“You-” The man croaked, his eyes closing against the pain that sounded in his voice. It was a rasp, barely a whisper. Edward wasn’t sure if it was from disuse or dehydration or screaming. Maybe all three. “Talk… too much.” He managed. Edward watched him grimly for a moment before asking, quieter.

“How long did they have you?” There was a pause so long that Edward was sure the man wouldn’t answer. But eventually, he did.

“Too long.” He hissed. Edward looked him over, eyes falling on his hands. His wrists were injured. He’d been bound far too tightly. There was bruising and blood, and his hands were shaking horribly even just laying in his lap. Edward reached into the back of the car for his medical supplies, pulling it up front. The man watched him carefully the whole time, waiting for an attack.

“You should let me clean those.” He nodded at his wrists. The man just stared at them, as if he was just noticing the painful-looking injuries. “If they get infected you might lose your hands.”

Hesitantly, he held them out to Edward and allowed him to clean them carefully, meticulously. He didn’t react at all to any pain or stinging. His face remained stoic, his hands didn’t flinch away. Still, Edward did his best to be gentle. If he knew Arkham, then this man likely hadn’t known a touch that led to anything but agony in all the time he’d been there. Once they were cleaned and wrapped, he looked back up to find the man’s alarmingly bright eyes watching him carefully. They were no longer crazed or desperate. He looked infinitely more lucid, despite seeming more exhausted now that the adrenaline was gone, and there was an intelligence in those eyes that Edward had missed before. He felt like there was nothing this man didn’t notice. Like he could dissect everything about you with a glance.

“Is there… anything else?” Edward asked with some difficulty, his mouth suddenly gone dry. “Other injuries?” The man just kept staring. “...You can have some more water now, and a bit of food if you’re hungry.”

The man took what he was offered gladly, then fell asleep against the passenger side door. He looked completely drained, and Edward couldn’t blame him at all. This was a man who had been through hell and just barely clawed his way out of it. Edward had saved him out of curiosity. He wanted to know how the man had escaped. Now, he wanted to keep him even once he had that information. It had been so, so long since he’d had company. Even longer since he’d had intelligent company. Loathed as he was to admit it, he was… lonely.

So he let the man stay.

They didn’t remain in the alcove for more than a day. There were places with more supplies, more opportunity, and Edward desperately wanted to find somewhere his dusty companion could wash up. So they travelled, and they searched. The man spoke very little and avoided physical contact like it would electrify him. He’d have horrible nightmares when he slept, and even when he was awake there were times when Edward was sure the man was seeing something other than what was there. But the man didn’t seem to have a problem with all of Edward’s chatter, even if he didn’t reply to most of it. Sometimes, they both just sat in silence. It was during one of those times that the man spoke.

“...My name is Jonathan.” His voice was still quiet, but not as weak and destroyed as it had been at first. “I… had forgotten.”

“...How long had it been, Jonathan?” Edward asked carefully, quietly, not looking away from the path he drove along. There was a long silence. Jonathan was shaking so violently that Edward could feel it. When he spoke, his voice trembled.

“Years.” He whispered, choked on the words as if he couldn’t bear to say them. “Tw… Twenty five? Thirty?” He wavered, and Edward was glad he wasn’t looking. He didn’t think he could bear to see whatever look was in Jonathan’s eyes at the moment. “I… I don’t know. I was… young. Thirteen, I think.”

“Thirteen?” Edward couldn’t help the exclamation, his heart squeezing in his chest. “They- they took you and used you as a bloodbag at thirteen?”

“I was an exception.” The man laughed weakly, no humor in it at all. It was just short of being a sob. “Universal donor. Couldn’t waste me on anything else. They strung me up, kept me in a cage… I wouldn’t stop fighting, so they- put on the…”

“Jonathan-”

“They fed me and kept me hydrated through tubes. Couldn’t risk taking it off. Kept my nails short, my body weak.” His voice was thick with tears and barely audible. Edward felt sick.

“...How did you escape?” He whispered, almost afraid to ask.

“There was a riot. I don’t know the details. I know there was chaos, I know my cage was opened. I think I… had a weapon. A scythe, from agriculture? I killed a lot of them.” He was whispering, sounding almost happy when he said that. “I made them suffer. They screamed and begged for their lives. They were terrified. So was I. Had been for decades. But now I was in control, and didn’t have enough left in me for mercy.” His words made Edward’s blood go cold, made his hands tighten on the steering wheel.

“Do you want to know,” he continued. “How I ended up there in the first place? How they found out what I was?” He sounded like something beyond tired. Beyond exhaustion. He sounded like his very soul wanted nothing more than to find rest.

“...I’m a painfully curious person, Jonathan. There’s nothing I don’t want to know.”

“They found out, because my great-grandmother told them. She delivered me to them, traded me for- I don’t know what she got, but it must’ve been something worthwhile…” His voice dropped low again. “Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe she just… hated me that much.”

Edward had no response to that, and Jonathan had nothing more to say. They sat in silence as Edward drove, neither of them looking at each other, and neither of them seeing the tears on each others cheeks.

It was another week before they found a place to clean themselves up and resupply. A small settlement that wasn’t fond of Edward but never turned down those in need. There was a well for water, reaching deep underground. The chill of it was welcome in the heated desert. Edward and Jonathan were left to privacy as they washed the dust, sand, and blood off of their skin and clothes. It was even more obvious how painfully emaciated Jonathan was when he had no shirt on. His skin barely stretched over the sharpness of his bones, dark tattoos on his back faded from age. They’d been done when Jonathan was first given to Arkham. They were barely legible over the multitude of scars covering Jon’s back beneath them.

It seemed the residents of Arkham weren’t the first to treat him poorly.

Edward become hyper-aware of his own scars, across his back as well as the back of his thighs, the few burns on his arms as well as the long, pale lines on the back of his hands where they’d been smacked hard enough to break skin. He washed as quickly as he could, and promptly hid in the guest shelter they were allowed to rest in for the night. Just the one. There weren’t enough for everyone to have their own, and the two men had been sleeping in the cramped car together anyway.

Jon was still shirtless when he came into the shelter. He laid down beside Edward, facing him and not shying away from his gaze. They stared at each other for a long moment, then Jon spoke quietly.

“How did you get yours?” Edward didn’t need to ask what he was talking about. He didn’t have to tell Jonathan. He could say it was none of his business. He could lie and say it was from some random thug or from one of the Citadels. Instead, he told the truth.

“These,” he nodded at the backs of his hands. “Were from my mother. Everything else was my father.” Jonathan didn’t reply. He didn’t say anything else for a very long time, and it was dark before he spoke again. Edward was facing away from him, on his side and trying to rest.

“Can I touch them?” Edward’s heart stopped. His blood went cold and his mouth went dry. His brain screamed at him to say no, or to pretend to be asleep. His whole body was against the prospect of anyone laying a hand on him, at the same time that it craved someone to hold and touch him. He closed his eyes tight, and took a dangerous leap off a precipice.

“If you want to.”

His voice was weaker than he meant it to be. He heard Jon shift behind him, and his heart rate rose with every small movement, anticipating what was to come. He couldn’t imagine what it was like to have someone touch him and have it simply… not hurt. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like for someone to hold him or just be gentle with him.

Then the lightest ghost of a touch ran along a large scar on his shoulder blade. Soft and slow, Jonathan’s hands were cold despite the arid heat of the desert. He traced his fingertips gently along each jagged line on Edward’s back. Like he was being careful with him. Like it mattered if Edward was okay or not. He traced every single one, from the largest to the smallest, then ran his hand down Edward’s arm to take his hand. He traced the ones there too, then came to the small circles on Edward’s forearms. Cigarette burns. Edward felt a thumb run over the worst one, and then something else.

Jonathan had pressed his lips to Edward’s arm, a gentle kiss where someone had decided to harm him for their own pleasure.

Edward turned his face into his other arm to hide his tears, but his shoulders shook all the same. Jonathan took a careful hold of his shoulder and turned him onto his back. Edward went with no resistance, and Jonathan gently took his wrists to stop Edward from wiping his tears. They stayed there for a moment, staring at each other. Tears in Edward’s eyes and on his cheeks, and an expression on Jonathan’s face that Edward didn’t recognize. Slowly, Jonathan released one of Edward’s hands and raised his own to caress the other man’s face, wiping his tears with a swipe of his thumb. The gentle gesture just prompted more to fall.

Shakily, Edward reached up with his free hand. There was an automatic flinch just before it found Jonathan’s still-damp hair, but Jon didn’t seem inclined to move or stop him. So Edward tangled his hand in Jon’s hair and led him down to kiss him. It was only supposed to be one. Just one kiss, given on impulse. But Jonathan’s hands were so careful with him, and he kissed back so gently. Edward needed more of it. It was like he was starved for whatever it was Jonathan was giving him. He wondered if taking too much would shock his system, like with water.

He turned to Jonathan more fully, and Jonathan wrapped an arm around him in turn, pulling him close and holding him as they kissed deeply in the increasingly dark shelter. Edward was clinging. There was no other word for it, he was clinging to Jonathan as if he’d die if they were separated. That was just fine, because Jonathan was clutching him close, just as desperately. Both of them revelled in the offered affection, the kindness, the gentleness of touch that they’d never known before that night.

Edward was still crying. On a whim, Jonathan moved from his mouth to kiss his tears, from just under his eyes and down to where they’d trailed onto his neck. His lips found the pulsepoint of Edward’s neck and the shorter man stiffened in his arms. Jonathan was alarmed, thought maybe he’d hurt him somehow, but Edward’s hand was in his hair again and held him in place. He kissed him there again, slow and deliberate. Edward shuddered in arms, and jerked with a gasp when Jonathan sucked on the soft skin of his neck.

Jon’s hands ran down Edward’s side to his thighs, curling around one of them so the tips of his fingers landed where the scars started, covered by Edward’s pants.

“These too?” He whispered against Edward’s skin. The response was immediate, Edward urgently nodding and making small, desperate noises that Jon could feel reverberate in his throat.

“Please,” Edward breathed the word, and Jon felt his heart clench. “Jonathan, please.” Neither were quite sure what he was asking for, but Jonathan was determined to give him whatever it was he needed.

He rolled Edward onto his back and held himself over him, taking in the vision that was the man beneath him. Cheeks flushed and eyes shining, chest rising and falling rapidly as he breathed, looking up at Jonathan as if he was all Edward had ever needed.

Jon was sure he was looking at Edward the same way.

He did away with the remainder of Edward’s clothing as quickly as he could while still being delicate. He moved down his body as he did so, pressing kisses down his chest and revelling in the small sounds Edward made in response. A gentle hand ran fingers through his hair, a pleasant feeling that Jon believed he could get used to. He ended up between Edward’s legs, and hooked his legs up for better access.

He turned his face to one of his thighs, pressing his mouth to each raised, pale line that ran across the delicate skin. It started simple and sweet, and then Jon ran his tongue along one closest to Edward’s hardened erection. The sound Edward made was exquisite. Jon would do anything to hear it again. So he continued in his ministrations, switching between kissing, sucking, and gently running his tongue along the scars on Edward’s thighs. He gave them both his undivided attention and could feel Edward trembling under his hands as he held him in place.

“Jon,” it was a sob more than a word, and Jon hummed against his skin in acknowledgement.

“Should I stop?” He spoke, lifting his face to look at Edward evenly. Distress filled his eyes as he shook his head.

“No. No, please don’t stop. I-” Jonathan shushed him gently, running open palms along his hips and outer thighs in soothing motions. Edward closed his eyes and took a breath, steadying himself. “I mean- would you-” He swallowed thickly, eyes darting to where his cock was dripping with precum. Jonathan looked considering, observed the mess of a man held beneath him, and then nodded.

As with everything else, it started with gentle kisses. The first one had Edward hissing, and as Jon continued from the base to the head he found he had to hold Edward’s hips in place with more force than before. He sucked the head into his mouth when he got there, and a breathless moan ripped from Edward’s throat as he gripped Jon’s hair for purchase. Jon wasn’t quite sure what he was doing, but Edward definitely seemed to enjoy it, and so he kept going. He took as much as he could and sucked softly, as he’d done a moment before, and pulled back as Edward gasped his name brokenly. Jon wasn’t always sure he had a heart, but at the moment he knew he did, because he could feel it full to bursting as he listened to Edward call for him.

He kept going, spurred on by the affection he felt for this man, motivated by a need for Edward to know that he was safe. He was cared for. No one would ever hurt him again. Jon wouldn’t let them, and would make up for every bit of harm that had ever been done to him. Edward was everything, in that moment. It was infinitely better than having nothing.

Edward came with a cry and Jonathan swallowed his release without thinking much of it. He pulled back to look at Edward, only to have the other man gently tug him up to kiss him. He moaned into Edward’s mouth as the other man did away with his pants and wrapped a warm hand around his arousal. He gasped at the contact, breaking the kiss, and so Edward latched onto his neck instead. He started at the curve from Jon’s shoulder, and up to his jawline. He stopped with his mouth beside Jon’s ear, whispering for only him to hear.

“I want you inside me,” he admitted shakily, hand moving with sure strokes the whole time. “I want you to- I want to feel you. Jon, I want you. Please. Please, I need you so badly.” He sounded like he might start crying again, like he was overcome with something Jon couldn’t identify.

“Okay.” He agreed, despite not quite knowing how to accomplish that. “Okay.” He nodded quickly, breathlessly agreeing once more. Then Edward was gone. Jon panicked for a moment. If whatever he had just agreed to meant Edward leaving him there, then he changed his mind. He didn’t want that. But Edward was just bringing over his bag of medical supplies, bringing out a small container of something before returning to straddle Jon’s hips.

Edward kissed him again, lingering and longing, before pulling back and opening the container. He dipped his fingers inside and then reached behind himself. Jon couldn’t take his eyes off his face, the way his eyes fell closed and his mouth fell open. Edward moved down against his own hand, moaning loudly, and Jon’s hands were on his hips immediately, needing to touch him again. Edward opened his eyes, met Jon’s own, and smiled. Jon felt his heart flutter. It was a distinctly peculiar feeling.

Edward spread the lubricant along Jonathan’s length, and then led it inside himself. Jonathan inhaled sharply, not expecting it to feel quite as wonderful as it did. Edward was tight, and warm, and gasping for breath like he’d been running for miles. He took Jonathan in completely, then met his eyes smugly before moving. He had every right to be smug. Jonathan had been largely silent in comparison to Edward, but Edward moving on top of him had him hissing curses in the still night air.

His hips moved of their own accord, rolling up as his hands led Edward down, making Edward gasp his name and close his eyes. So Jonathan kept doing that, fucking up into Edward until the other man was practically incoherent.

“Touch yourself.” Jon ordered in a low, breathy tone. Edward shuddered, a groan escaping him as he did what he was told, his hand wrapping around himself and stroking in time with Jonathan’s thrusts.

“I’m close.” He gasped some time, and just a moment later he was coming into his hand with a cry of Jon’s name, clenching around Jonathan’s cock and dragging him over the edge alongside him. Jonathan groaned out a curse, head falling back against the bedding as Edward slowed to a stop. There was a pause, then Edward moved off of him to lie beside him. He was staring at the ceiling, shaking violently.

“Are you alright?” Jonathan asked quietly, and all Edward could do was nod. He was overwhelmed. He was certain Jonathan was as well, could feel him trembling beside him. After so long without touch of any sort, and a lifetime without a kind touch, he found it addicting. It was all he wanted. He wanted Jonathan wrapped around him, holding him, loving him. His throat felt tight, and he tried his best not to start crying again.

He rolled over to press against Jonathan, burying his face in the crook of his neck. Long arms wrapped around him immediately and without question, holding him close and stroking his hair with a care Edward hadn’t known anyone could possibly have for him. There was no helping the tears, even as Jonathan spoke quiet words of comfort.

“Edward, it’s alright. You’re okay. I’m here.” He whispered into Edward’s hair, feeling a bit choked up himself. “I got you. You’re alright…”

And he was. Edward felt alright, for the first time in his life. He was loved, he was safe, and he was perfectly alright. He nuzzled against Jonathan, whispering against his skin about how wonderful he was, how glad Edward was to have him there. He felt Jonathan bury his face in his hair, felt his arms tighten around him. They fell asleep like that, clutching each other close, occasionally whispering praises and comforts to each other in the dark desert night.

They took off early in the morning, not willing to face anyone else in the settlement after their loud night. The atmosphere in the car was anxious. Things felt different in the light of day. Edward was embarrassed by the sheer amount of tears he had shed, they were both unsure of exactly where they stood with each other, but both wanted more. More contact, more affection.

Edward kissed Jon when they switched drivers. It was quick, casual, and it was the most frightening thing he had ever done. But when he pulled back, Jon smiled at him. Jonathan rarely ever smiled, and if he did it was because of something Edward said or did. It was small, but soft, and his eyes would reflect something like adoration. He kissed Edward in return, just to reassure him. Then they both settled into their seats, and Jon started driving. Edward curled up against the passenger side door and fell asleep with a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> I rewatched Fury Road last night and spent the whole time planning this fic. I really hope you guys like it! Comments and kudos are my lifeblood and they are what fuel my writing. c:


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